Witch in Rome
by maro-san
Summary: The one who should have died, did not fall as everyone assumed. Going against all odds to fight for vengeance and duty they go to Rome and get sucked into something bigger than they could ever imagine. As they say: every lie, is based on some truth


I started something new since I had some free time on my hands and well homework just wasn't cutting it for me…so here ye are oh populace of fandom…drabbles of the bored and just slightly confused, just slightly. I'm pretty sure this is the first sm/tb (trinity blood) crossover ever, if not: aw, if so: yay.

DON'T OWN SO DON'T SUE!

It was a beautiful winter night under the European sky. The moon in her full glory cast a comforting, white, glow over everything she touched, making the night seem so surreal. The trees looked hauntingly white with their lengthened shadows; the color of pitch, creating such a contrast it was hard to distinguish which shadow was which. Snow draped over the bare branches though the trees were so close together that it seemed like a blanket covered them continuously from far off. In the middle of the deeply wooded forest, surrounded by trees and no definite path leading to it, stood a fairly small, dilapidated-looking compound, with boarded windows and crumbling wall surrounding it. The only discerning feature that told of its use was a very sturdy looking iron door that seemed to have no apparent handle, but a keypad of sorts to the right of it. They were both in new condition with scuffs on the door and fingerprints on the pad and the keys glowed a slight green from the light powering them. All around the silence was suffocating, no birds, no sounds of the night; it was almost daunting in the wintry scene. The silence was broken as the impenetrable-seeming door was dented through the inside, the sound ricocheting in the night, the metal bulged towards the forest and with another powerful hit was burst open, as a person leapt into the pristine snow causing a flurry to spray as they crouched, absorbing the impact.

The tall, gaunt figure was the beautiful as he rose from his crouch, simply said, his face was perfectly proportioned, his eyes burned with an inner fire, his lean body rippled as he moved gracefully aside to maneuver away from a dagger that was thrown at him. In his physical perfection and his fluid grace he proved to be unnatural from Earth. He was too graceful, too perfect in form and execution, every movement seem rehearsed to the point of perfection, and in that made him stand out even as blood dripped from the wound on his left side. It splattered the ground, staining the snow red as it seeped and turned the area around it pink. His beautiful face formed into a haughty sneer as his pursuer leapt from inside the building and aimed a pistol at his head.

"What will you do now, oh maiden," he snarled. "You have no bullets left; your last one is cooling in the snow. I'll enjoy feasting on your blood tonight, revenge for slaughtering my clansmen, you stupid wench."

With that said he flung himself at her as his canines elongated, aimed at her elegant throat, but she twisted out of the way and tried to stab him with an ornately decorated knife she pulled from her from her hip holster, her pistol forgotten. He dodged and leapt away from her landing across from her and smirked, licking his lips in anticipation.

"How can such a pretty thing be so ruthless? If you weren't a damn Terran I might have considered you for a mistress," he smirked wider at the look of disgust that flashed across her face and he continued to rile her up. "You aren't worth the time though, bloody little Terran, I'll suck you dry and leave your corpse to rot." His laughter was deep and malicious, taunting in its joviality, the malicious tone belying his perfect face.

He moved quickly and disappeared before her eyes only to go behind her and pin her to the side of the building with his strength. Her knife was thrown across the snow and struck a stump nearby and she glared at him as he pinned her. He stroked the side of her cheek with an elongated nail and licked his lips as her cut cheek began to ooze blood. He bared his fangs and clicked his teeth together in a display of bravado and leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"Any last words before you die, Terran? Beg for your life now if…"

His words were cut off and she jammed some sort of light into his chest which burst out through his back, spraying crimson liquid onto the snow. She shoved him back and he fell to his knees in front of her, blood dripping down his shirt to puddle at his knees, and teetered there as he stared up at her. In her hand she held to hold a sword made completely of light, or the sword was a part of her, he couldn't tell as his vision faded and black consumed him. With his vision fading his hearing was fading too but he was still able to decipher her retort though faint as it was.

"Only that you talk too much for a Vampyre," she stated.

He would've laughed if he wasn't already dead, falling forward, sprawled in the snow. A cold wind rustled through the dead trees, making them moan and creak. Her hair was braided down her back and she stared sadly at the dead Vampyre, no Methesulah, that's what they called themselves, and crossed her chest. She bowed her head and muttered a prayer under her breath before she started towards her dagger and she looked at it in both guilt and weariness before she tore it from the stump and jammed it into its sheath before turning around and walking away from the compound. Her gun lay forgotten, hidden by the shadows of the overhanging of the building. Cloaked by darkness, it was lightly covered by the snow that started to fall and laid strewn.

Father Abel Nightroad and Father Tres Iquis (don't remember the spelling sorry if I did it wrong) were investigating the compound that a gang of Vampyres, calling themselves the Elite, were hiding. They had found the dead corpses of at least 10 or more down in the bowels of the building, underground, with gun shots to their head or heart, an efficient death. The one they uncovered outside, Nightroad almost tripped over it, was missed on the way in because they believed (or more Abel believed) it to be a log of some sort, to find the body of the leader. A not so prominent figure in the Empire (what the Vampyre civilization was called) he was one, Sir Eric Valditch, and was wanted by the Vatican and the Empire for causing "unnecessary disputes and general mayhem" of both empires. His case was different because it seemed that he was killed by a stab to the heart versus being shot like the rest. Tres started to move towards the compound once again and hunched over something interesting. Nighroad stared at him quizzically before also looking at what Tres found..

It was an ornately decorated gun, with extremely detailed engravings of vines and a cross reminiscent to the olden swords of lore during the medieval ages. It read in a foreign language that neither knew but its design sparked recognition in Nightroad's eyes and he almost gasped, but his eyes widening were enough to signify enough surprise that had Tres turn around and look at him questioningly.

"Is there something that bothers you, Father Nightroad? Do you have any information on who might have killed our targets," asked Tres robotically.

He scanned the firearm and searched throughout his and the Vatican's database looking for any precedent on who the gun might belong to. When Abel didn't answer Tres looked to see a frown marring Abel's usually placid face.

"Father Nightroad, what do you know? I can not find a gun like this in the data banks," Tres said monotonously as he passed the gun to Father Nightroad.

Abel took the gun and turned it over as the beautiful gun reflected the mid morning sun. The cold winter air still surrounded the deadened forest but sounds of animals were apparent, though faint, near the compound, as if the animals knew not to go here, where the stench of death and gun powder warned them off. He looked at the gun and brushed off a bit of snow that had persistently hung on to the barrel of the gun even through the jostling that Tres had given it. One word was embellished across in readable script in English, _Serenity._

"Why does this feel so familiar," Abel muttered quietly.

"What is it, Father Nightroad," Tres questioned as he took the gun again and began to study the engravings searching for any clues that he might've overlooked because of the persistent piece of snow.

"Nothing Tres-kun, just some dejavu" Abel muttered and he rubbed his neck, embarrassed, his personality changing in an instant. "Well, the Vatican isn't going to like our report today."

From a distance, the owner of the gun was hiding behind a tree and cursing her forgetfulness at leaving her gun behind. Now that damned priest had it, Krusnik. She cursed mentally and started to leave the scene as discreetly as possible, now that they had it she needed to get it back, and continue her journey to find that one Methesulah that had killed her most beloved one. She needed to make sure that his plan for the degeneration of the world did not continue. If it did then all her sacrifices would have been for not. She cursed her luck and continued on her way, to Rome, to the capitol, to memories that she wished she could forget. As she walked into the distance a branch dropped its load of snow to the ground and both Abel and Tres turned to see what it was. The silent figure watching them had left, leaving as quickly and as quietly as she came leaving both of them unaware of her presence.

**_May you find Serenity in Death_**

Well that's it for now please r&r. if there's anything you don't understand its because you haven't watched Trinity Blood. I'll explain it in the next chapter too lazy to do it now.


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